


Lucky

by eastwood



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Modern AU, One Shot, Surprise First Meeting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2019-03-09 10:09:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13479234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eastwood/pseuds/eastwood
Summary: Jesse's day started out pretty damn great and only got better from there. Before it took a turn for fucking awful, anyway.But that's getting ahead of things.





	Lucky

Jesse wakes up to his supervisor calling to tell him there’s a busted water pipe in the basement at work, and he's getting a paid day off while it's fixed. He turns his alarm off and rolls right back over upon hearing the good news.

After a few hours of catching up on some much needed sleep, he spends the afternoon shuffling around his apartment and taking care of shit he's let slide during the last month of staggered double shifts. He does the dishes, pays his bills, cleans out the fridge, and even scrubs off the ring of soap scum that's been growing in the tub. When he does his laundry, all five hundred loads of it, he finds forty bucks left in a jacket he hasn't worn since last fall, plus two different missing socks.

With everything done, the only thing he needs is something to eat and a well-deserved drink. His fridge is completely empty now, he hasn't had the time or the will to go to the store since... has it been three weeks already?

So he calls up some friends and tells them to meet him at the bar a couple blocks away, planning to make somebody to buy him some curly fries or something. Even though he's up a pair of twenties since this morning it's his clearly lucky day today, and he might as well milk it for all it's worth.

As it turns out, Olivia arrives carrying two fucking extra-large pizzas and some story about getting them for free. And she's willing to share. The bartender - normally an asshole who underpours their drinks all the time - doesn't say a word about them bringing in food from outside, not after Olivia slides him a couple slices with a big grin and a cheesy wink.

Jesse has no clue what he's done lately to deserve this kind of karma, but he's not going to question it. He just goes ahead and buys the first round, in case that's what it takes to keep the good times rolling.

Six rounds later he’s very well oiled and _still_ plays the best game of pool in his life, sinking four balls on his last turn and beating out that Shimada asshole for the first time ever.

Nothing can faze his excellent mood, and it seems to be rubbing off on the people around him too. A second ago it felt like everyone in the bar was holding their breath along with him when the 8 ball teetered on the edge of the corner pocket, and when it tips that last fraction of an inch and falls in there's at least a half dozen people he doesn't know whooping and cheering for his victory.

A guy he's punched in the face before in this very same bar is slapping him on the back now, drunkenly insisting that it was the best thing he's ever seen, and that Jesse should totally enter the olympics for pool, or something.

Jesse shrugs the guy off, grabs a shot somebody else is pushing into his face and throws it back, then when he tries to wade through the crowded bar to his table again he's stopped almost immediately by a woman's arm looping possessively around his own.

“How'd you get so good at that game?” she purrs.

Jesse takes one look at her and grins. It's not like he's ever had much problem picking up women, but they're not literally hanging off him like this either. And she's all luscious curves and long brunette hair, with big brown eyes and pouting lips - women this hot did not, on average, hang around the local watering holes. By this point though, Jesse has accepted that today, for whatever reason, he can do no wrong.

“I dunno, darlin’,” he says, sliding his arm around her waist. “I'm good at a lot of things. Maybe we can go somewhere quieter and I’ll tell you all about it?”

She laughs, tossing her hair back with a flip and bounce that's more perfect than a shampoo commercial, and tugs him towards the exit.

His new friend's name is Katelyn, or Katherine maybe, it doesn't matter when she only lives around the corner because once they get inside there's not much left to say. Jesse's clothes hit the bedroom floor in record time, even if he has to go back to rummage through all his pockets looking for a condom.

As soon as he's back on the bed, between her beautiful legs and tearing the wrapper open with his teeth, they both hear the front door open and freeze in place.

“Oh my god,” Katelyn-or-maybe-Katherine whispers. “That's my husband.”

Jesse groans. “You’re _married?_ ” So much for his streak of good luck.

She pushes him off, hissing, “Yes, and you have to go before he sees you!” Then she shoves him away from the bedroom door, herding him instead towards the sliding glass doors on the other side of the room.

“Oh come on,” Jesse protests, digging in his heels. “I'm not hidin’ outside just because you're a fuckin' cheater—”

“He can't find you here,” she says. “He's a cop, alright? I don't know what he'll do!”

“A fucking cop?” Jesse hisses right back. “Jesus, lady, what the hell is wrong with you!”

“Kristen?” a man's voice calls from elsewhere in the apartment, interrupting their whispered argument. “Are you home?”

“Get outside!” Kristen says, clawing her long nails into Jesse's arm and forcing him through the sliding glass door.

“Ow, Jesus, fine!” Jesse stumbles onto the balcony, which turns out to be barely five feet wide and at most three feet across. A pretty fucking bad hiding spot, in his opinion. “What about my clothes!” he whispers as loud as he dares.

“I'll take care of it!” Then she shuts the door in his face, locks it, and pulls the curtains.

From outside Jesse can hear her speaking normally again, saying something to her fucking cop husband, but it's too muffled to make out the words. He shivers, and crosses his arms, taking two steps to the slightly more hidden side of the balcony. There he stands, buck naked on some random cheating lady's fucking apartment balcony, with about a 50-50 chance of being shot for something he had no idea he was getting into. This is definitely not his lucky day, he thinks. It might even be the worst day of his very short life, depending how the rest of the night goes.

Then he hears the lock click open on the sliding glass door, and he panics.

Given a split second to make a decision, his options are severely limited. The next balcony looks too far to jump, but maybe the one below... He's over the railing, climbing down the vertical bars like they're a jungle gym, trying not to look any further than where his feet need to go. It's harrowing, but he's being driven by adrenaline, and right now he's grateful for every push up he's ever done since he was twelve years old.

After a few seconds he finds the rail of the balcony under him with his foot. He gets the other foot on it too, and slowly, very, _very_ slowly, shifts his balance so he can let go of Kristen’s balcony and stealthily drop into the one downstairs.

His heel slips off the railing.

At the same time, he loses his grip on the balcony above him. For one horrible instant he knows he's going to plummet down all five stories and make it to street level much faster than he was hoping.

But instead, by some blessed combination of aerodynamics, gravity, and possibly magnetism, he winds up crashing ass-first into the downstairs neighbor's balcony, slamming his tailbone on the tiled flooring so hard he nearly bites his tongue in half.

Tears spring to his eyes, and he balls up his fists to bang on his knees, shaking his head like a stung dog so he doesn't start yelling out fuck-you's and goddamn-sonuva-bitch's to alert the stupid cop husband that he exists and is conveniently wounded, therefore much easier to kill.

Unfortunately, despite his struggle to remain undetected, as soon as the pain stops shooting up his spine and punching the back of his forehead he notices someone else on the balcony standing a mere four feet away from him. They're dressed in dark clothing and tucked into the far corner, and there's only enough light from the streetlamps below to see that they're tall, huge, and definitely looking at him: the naked guy that just showed up out of nowhere.

“Uh,” Jesse says.

He's saved from coming up for an explanation on the spot for his sudden appearance when something falls from the balcony above, and keeps on going past them to land somewhere on the sidewalk. The shadowy person on the balcony with him turns to look, and Jesse looks as well, right on time to see the next thing fall but not in time to catch it. Kristen just threw his goddamn pants into the street.

“Oh, that fucking bitch,” Jesse growls.

There's a little orange glow, the figure moves to lean over the railing, and Jesse realizes they're tapping ash off the end of a cigarette. “I assume those were yours,” a low, gravelled voice says. The streetlamps light up half his face now, a hard profile with sharp cheekbones and a cut jaw. He looks like a gangster straight out of the movies.

“Yeah,” Jesse mutters. Jesus fucking Christ. He winces at the faint cracking sound of his phone hitting the pavement, unseen.

“Bad night?” the guy asks, and it sounds like he's pretty fucking amused by Jesse's current predicament. Jesse can practically hear the schadenfreude dripping from his voice.

He has to bite off his first snappish reply, remembering that right now he's stuck naked on this guy's balcony and the only thing that's going to save him is a stranger's good graces.

Please, dear Lord, Jesse thinks. Let the guy have some good graces, no matter how small. And please don't let him be friends with the cop upstairs. He sighs, and resigns himself to being mocked if that's what it takes to borrow a pair of pants from this guy.

“You're tellin' me,” he says instead. “Mind if I—”

“Who's out there?” a man yells from upstairs, interrupting him.

Jesse scrambles as quickly and quietly as he can towards the building and presses himself against the wall, heart hammering in his chest for the third goddamn time that night.

“Get your ass out here, don't mess with me!” the man shouts, loud and angry. “Think you can hide?! I'll kill you!”

The stranger on the balcony with Jesse casually leans over the railing and looks up. “Shut the fuck up,” he barks back, with enough steel behind it to set the hairs on the back of Jesse’s neck rising.

“What?!” the man says, his volume going up even more.

“It's three in the _fucking_ morning, you dumbass. People are trying to sleep.”

“Go fuck yourself, Reyes!” the man snarls, and after some incoherent grumbling Jesse can hear him stomping back inside and slamming the door closed.

“Stupid prick,” Jesse’s new hero scoffs, then takes one last drag off his cigarette and flicks the butt over the railing. He goes to his own sliding glass door, opens it, and motions Jesse to follow him with a tilt of his head.

“Holy shit, that dude is nuts. You saved my ass,” Jesse says, once safely inside with the door shut behind him. A light turns on, and he quickly covers his junk with both hands. “He called you Reyes, right? That’s you?”

“Yeah,” Reyes says, eyeing Jesse thoughtfully then going over to a dresser and pulling open one of the drawers. “I might have something in your size.”

Jesse coughs; Reyes might be roughly his height but he’s about twice as wide. “No worries, I have clothes they're just, you know. On the street.”

Reyes glances back at him just to smirk, white teeth glinting, making Jesse’s stomach drop.

Now that Jesse can see the guy clearly, he doesn’t know whether to be more or less intimidated. Reyes is built like a tank and stands like a fighter, light on his feet despite packing enough muscle to tear phone books in half, but also he’s _gorgeous_ , that stern face far less menacing out of the dark. He could be a damn fashion model, in magazines.

Reyes slides the drawer shut. “I'll go down and get your things, if someone else hasn't stolen them by now anyway.” As he goes to leave he pushes some clothes to Jesse’s chest. “Here, you can wear that. Or not.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Jesse says. The last part clicks right when Reyes is out the front door. He blinks. Nah, he seriously doubts Reyes wants a stranger to sit around alone and naked in his apartment. Just a joke. Jesse can see the humor in his situation, anyhow, now that he’s in much less danger of getting shot.

It would make for a pretty good porno though, Jesse thinks, grinning to himself as he checks out what Reyes had given him: gym shorts, oversized but not enough to fall off when he puts them on. Trapped in an apartment with a big scary stranger, no clothes, helpless with nothing to offer but his own bodily charms.

He knows just what sort of cheesy lines would go with it too. _Please, isn’t there anything I can do?_ he’d say. Then Reyes would say _Anything?_ and reach for his zipper. The guy even looked the part; Jesse can bet he has a nice dick.

Jesse snickers and bites his lip, then gets startled out of his thoughts by the door opening behind him. He jerks around and almost trips over his own feet to find Reyes coming in, looking at him amused.

Reyes holds up a handful of clothes and two shoes. “Keys and wallet were still in the pockets. Only found half your phone.”

“Shit,” Jesse sighs, taking back his clothes and rifling through to see what the damage is. He pulls out the shattered remains of his phone, screen completely missing, and frowns. “Thanks anyway.”

“No problem,” Reyes says. “You know, you’re pretty lucky for a complete idiot.”

“Hey,” Jesse protests automatically, stung no matter how true it might be.

Reyes just shrugs. “Last guy that got caught up there wound up leaving in an ambulance. Thought I was going to watch you get scraped into a body bag, the way you started dangling off the balcony.”

“Well I didn’t have many options, now did I,” Jesse grumbles.

Reyes snorts. “Guess not.” Then he turns and starts walking out, flapping a dismissive hand towards a half-open door that Jesse can assume is the bathroom. “Just leave my shit in the laundry basket.”

“Sure,” Jesse says, and goes to get back into his own clothes.

He dutifully drops the borrowed shorts in the wicker hamper inside the door, and redresses while idly checking out the bathroom. Clean, not too tidy, a single toothbrush and tube of toothpaste left by the sink, electric clippers with the cord wrapped up neatly further down the counter, some jar of product, a few bottles lined up along the mirror. The room smells good, spicy and masculine with some kind of cologne or aftershave. Bachelor, for sure.

Jesse finishes pulling down his shirt and buttons up his jeans, leaving before he gets curious enough to peek in a drawer.

He finds the bedroom empty, and wanders down the hall from there towards the only doorway with light spilling from it, coming into a kitchen where Reyes is at the table, sprawled into a chair that looks too small under him, thumbing through a phone in one hand with the other arm hooked heavy over the chair’s back.

Jesse raps his knuckles against the door jamb and Reyes looks up. “Hey, uh, thanks again. I really appreciate it. Sorry for interruptin’ your night,” Jesse says.

Reyes shrugs. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Well, if there’s anything I can do,” Jesse starts to offer, then realizes he’s accidentally started echoing that stupid porn script he’d imagined and cringes inwardly.

“Anything?” Reyes drawls right on cue, one black eyebrow arched. For a single moment Jesse is both horrified and thrilled that Reyes somehow _knows_ what he’d been thinking, but then Reyes continues without seeming to notice. “How about a drink? You look like you could use one.”

“Oh,” Jesse manages to choke out. “Yeah, okay.”

Reyes gestures to one of the free chairs across from himself, and then sets his phone on the tabletop and gets up to start opening cabinets as Jesse comes in to sit. He comes back with a fifth of rye, two-thirds empty, and plunks down what looks to be a pair of juice glasses.

“Hope you like the cheap stuff,” Reyes says, as he pours a shot into each glass.

“It’s my favorite,” Jesse says, taking the drink Reyes pushes towards him and knocking it back in one go, the only way to avoid really tasting it. The whiskey still burns down his throat, landing in his belly warm.

Reyes sits down with him and follows suit, mouth twisting as he sets his glass back on the table and reaches again for the open bottle. “Wish I could say the same,” he says grimly, and tips out two more shots. “So how’d that old viper upstairs talk you into bed? I’ve always wondered if maybe I should put up a warning sign or something.”

Jesse snorts a laugh. “Like what? Beware, all ye who enter here?”

Reyes smirks into his glass. “Do not enter if young and dumb,” he says, then takes the shot.

Jesse grimaces, then. “Ouch, gimme a break. Pretty lady like that starts talkin’ sweet to you, little hard to say no. She didn’t have a ring or nothin’, either.”

“Young and dumb,” Reyes repeats. “Drink.”

Jesse obeys, tossing the second down his throat more easily than the first, and holds out his glass when Reyes lifts the bottle again. He sighs, now resenting both his youth and stupidity, and Reyes a little for pointing it out. “S’pose I can’t deny it. But I was havin’ such a good day, felt like nothin’ could go wrong.”

“Oh?” Reyes asks.

“Free food and everything,” Jesse says glumly. Then he shakes his head. “Guess it could’ve been worse though, and you were even awake already.”

“Yeah, insomnia comes in handy sometimes,” Reyes says, deadpan.

“Ah,” Jesse says. “I mean-”

“Relax,” Reyes says, then leans back with a creak of his chair and smirks at him. “Having a naked man fall out of thin air isn’t exactly the worst thing that’s ever happened to me. Almost like gay porn or something.”

Jesse chokes on nothing and feels his face go hot and he quickly grabs for his drink, downing it for lack of anything else to hide with. He winds up inhaling cheap rye whiskey instead, because he’s a fucking moron, and spends the next two minutes trying to hack his lungs out without throwing up all over Reyes’ kitchen table.

“Shit, kid,” Reyes says across from him, when Jesse’s finally able to take a few shuddering breaths of fresh air without choking. “Was it the gay thing?”

“No,” Jesse croaks out, weakly, left feeling dizzy with his elbows on his knees and head hanging down. “Y’just keep sayin’ what I’m thinkin’.”

“Huh,” Reyes says.

Then Jesse hears the chair creak, and the sink turn on and off again. He rubs roughly at his face, knuckling stray tears out of the corner of his eyes, and sits up as Reyes sets down a tall glass of water in front of him. “Thanks,” he mutters, reaching for it but not daring to try a sip yet. When he looks over he finds Reyes leaning against one of the counters, arms crossed, studying him like he’s something particularly strange.

“You alright?” Reyes asks eventually.

“Yeah,” Jesse says, fingers curled around the water glass.

“I didn’t get you too drunk, did I?”

Jesse huffs, the best he can do for a laugh, and shakes his head. “Cheap stuff’s just easier to drink than breathe, is all.”

Reyes pushes away from the counter then, and steps over until he’s right in front of him. Jesse goes still as a hand comes up and dark fingers brush a strand of hair away from his face.

“You know, I’m almost starting to feel a little sorry for you,” Reyes murmurs, “Tell me if I’m wrong, but maybe I could make your night end on a better note.” Two fingertips find their way to Jesse’s chin and tip his head back.

Jesse swallows, staring up at him in disbelief, unsure how to convey his complete and utter approval for whatever Reyes means by that, so long as he might keep getting touched. “Yes?” he offers at last as Reyes, the perfect, beautiful, far-out-of-his-league man that he is, only continues to look at him, questioning.

A smile curves Reyes’ mouth at his answer, slow but inevitable. “Good,” he says. “Come on, then.”

Jesse lets himself be tugged out of the chair, from the kitchen and down the hall, back to the bedroom. He doesn’t quite feel in control of his feet on the way, like it’s just a dream or a fantasy and he’s only along for the ride, on autopilot. But then Reyes leads him to the bed, sits him down on the edge of it, and kneels between his open legs, and Jesse finally opens his mouth to ask, “Are you serious?”

“If it’s ok with you,” Reyes says dryly, like he’d said something funny.

Jesse can only nod, and then Reyes is smirking and going for the button of his jeans. Jesse slumps back to prop himself up on his elbows as he watches Reyes open his fly, pull out his dick, and lick up the underside of the soft head with a wide, hot tongue. “Fuck,” he says.

And Reyes hums, tonguing him again. “You can if you want. My mouth, I mean.”

“Jesus Christ,” Jesse says. “This- this is good.”

Because it is; Reyes’ mouth is silken and wet and _hot_ as it closes right around his cock, working over him as he gets hard, one hand shifting lower to tug and squeeze gently on his balls as the other holds him in place, circled at the base of his dick, jacking him off a little.

“Oh,” Jesse sighs, sinking even lower to his back so he can pillow his head on one bent arm and slide the palm of his hand over his stomach, “Honey, that’s so good.”

He groans as Reyes just hitches one of his legs up over broad shoulder and swallows him down even further. After another minute of what’s already a damn good blowjob, warm heavy hands slide up his thighs and hold his hips still for Reyes to take him deep for a few strokes, pulling back to leave Jesse trembling. Then he does it again, a little longer, before getting all the way off and sucking just at the head, thick tongue moving wet underneath, and Jesse squirms and gets his fingers twisted up in the sheet trying not to come when his slit get flicked over with just the tip of a tongue.

When Reyes starts swallowing him whole again Jesse can’t even take the thought of it, just gasps out, “I’m gonna come—” and then he is, moaning with his eyes squeezed shut, shooting off into Reyes’ hot mouth, completely at his mercy.

Jesse can only lie there for several moments before he manages to get his head on straight enough to open his eyes, just as Reyes sits down next to him, making the mattress sink.

“Better?” Reyes asks, a slight curve in his mouth, and Jesse looks up at him before dropping his gaze lower, to where Reyes is re-adjusting himself in his loose pants.

“Uh huh,” Jesse says, then catches Reyes by the front of his hoodie and tugs him down. Reyes makes an amused sound but allows it, and Jesse doesn’t let go when their lips meet but reaches with his other hand to palm over the hard line of Reyes’ dick. “Want some help?” he asks between one light kiss and another, and feels Reyes huff at him, but then Reyes is effortlessly lifting him a little further up the bed to roll on top of him and start kissing him for real.

Jesse’s hand is pushed out of the way as Reyes fits their hips together, so he wiggles his jeans off and gets his legs open to let Reyes rub off on him however he likes. Jesse just wraps both arms around that thick strong neck and focuses on getting as much of Reyes’ tongue down his throat as possible.

He almost wishes Reyes was fucking him for real—because _goddamn_ the man is packing—but being pressed down with Reyes’ full weight and rutted into the mattress is so good already it starts feeling like he’s in a fantasy again; every touch of Reyes’ hands or mouth or dick moving on him sends warm liquid ripples through him until Jesse’s left dazed, just ready to give up and melt.

Reyes doesn’t even move off when he comes, simply pushes Jesse’s shirt up to his chest to give himself bare skin to spend on and Jesse nearly whines when he feels it wetting his stomach, thinking helplessly _yes yes come on me._

Only after that do they finally break apart, breathing heavily, and Jesse doesn’t want to open his eyes and ruin the feeling. But he does, to find Reyes looking down at him with a faint smirk.

“Just realized I never got your name,” Reyes says.

“It’s Jesse,” Jesse murmurs, dragging his shirt back down, heedless of getting it dirty.

Reyes hums, nudging another soft kiss to his mouth. “Jesse. That’s real cute. Why don’t you sleep here; I’d feel bad kicking you out now.”

“Okay,” Jesse says, and just lets his eyes close again as he feels Reyes shift to settle down next to him, one arm coming to hug around his middle. He lies there, warm and satisfied and kind of drunk, somehow not shot to death or flat on the pavement, in bed with the most beautiful man he’s ever met, and he can only think  _shit_ ; maybe he really is lucky.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading.


End file.
